


Correctional Serendipity

by orphan_account



Series: PrisonStuck [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Illustrated, Jailstuck, Multi, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Prison, Red Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No reasonable troll would blame you for what you did. You weren’t having a good day.</p><p>Vriska Serket finds herself cruelly locked away for nothing more than one little murder spree, and now has to deal with a sweaty roommate, a pathetic admirer, and a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse with a warden who is always one step ahead. On top of it all, she's accidentally started a prison gang, and even the great spiderbitch isn't sure she can handle this many irons on her fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

“One of the many lessons that one learns in troll prison is, that things are what they are and will be what they will be.”

Troll Oscar Wilde

 

\---

You’ve never liked this planet. Even in the dead of night the air is hot and thick enough that you could stick your fangs in it. And now you’re stuck here for good. You remind yourself to be grateful you weren’t culled, but it’s hard to be grateful knowing you’re going to spend the rest of your life wasting all your beautiful potential rotting behind bars. You’ve heard of alien cultures that placed limited sentences on their prisoners instead of working them until they collapsed, but you’re sure they were conquered years ago by your oh so superior race and that nonsense was stamped out immediately.

 

It’s ridiculously unfair that you’re even here for nothing more than a tiny little murdering spree.

 

Your name is Vriska Serket and you hate the law.

 

 

\---

 

No reasonable troll would blame you for what you did. You weren’t having a good day. The first one was a red-blood, for fuck’s sake. She had the guts to ask you for money, and you get in trouble for starting a fight? It’s not your fault the damn things break so easily! The second one must have been her moiral, ‘cause he seemed pretty upset when you snapped her neck. He was a green-blood, tough looking brute, but a kick to the bulge had him on the ground pretty fast and like a beautiful murderbeast you were on top of him, wringing the life out of him for daring to touch you. At that point you started to pick up momentum, and the gathering crowd was looking pretty insolent, so you whipped out the octet and went to town. You were just starting to have some fun when someone bigger and stronger than you clocked you in the back of the head and you woke up hurting like hell in a city jail.

 

 

The trail was a farce. Your hack of a yellow-blood attorney was slimed off his pan and the prosecution was cheating, you know it.  He was a greasy-looking blue-blood with a stick clearly rammed so far up his ass you were surprised it wasn’t pocking out between his fangs. Instead of bringing out His Honorable Tyranny as someone of your potential so clearly deserved, all you got was some moldy old troll with a gavel and a wig who sentenced you to hard labor for “I don’t know, forever, I suppose.”

 

 

The very next day, they carted you off, handed you your horrid neon yellow uniform, and rounded you in to the shithole they called a cell. The walls were grey and cracked, the floor was grey and stained, and the two, stacked recupercoons were grey and full of slime that had the sickly grey sheen of past occupants’ sweat.  When you let out a miserable sigh, the guard shoved you into the wall and told you to stop feeling sorry for your self, scum. You settled into a corner and felt nice and bad for poor Vriska.  At least they gave you a blue-blood room, a double instead of a quad with a toilet instead of a hole in the ground. When you entered, your roommate was submerged, and you had no intention of waking him or her. Your fingers still itched with murder, but the rational side of your head didn’t want a fight, so you let the poor thing sleep. You dipped a finger testily into the slick sopor, and sighed when it came back sticky. Always a bad sign, sopor was supposed to slide off the finger when fresh. Sighing, you stripped and lowered yourself in, feeling the organic padding mold to the shape of your sharp-angled body and slowly drifting into a dull, unimaginative dream.

 

\---

 

After an unsatisfying night’s sleep, you were woken by echoing footfalls in your cell. Peering over the side, you got a first glance at your new best friend. It wasn’t a pretty sight. He was a guy, tall, totally ripped, and probably higher than you, but he was also shiny with sweat with one of his horns was snapped off at the base. Not exactly prime jailsprit material. You might have been new here, but you knew from your shadier friends that it’s a good idea to quadrant yourself to someone quick in here, before a less-than-pleasant troll decides they want you for themselves. You already knew this guy was pretty far from attractive, but he might at least make a good ally. Time to work your smooth moves.

 

“Soooooooo,” you drawled smoothly, “nice little cell we got ourselves, huh?”

 

“It is adequate for my punishment,” the freaky dude replied curtly.

 

“What are you in for, then, buddy?”

 

“That is hardly any matter for your consideration.” Ruuuuuuuude.

 

“Well, we’re neighbors now, we might as well get to know each other. I’m Vriska,” you said, extending a sopor-dripping hand.

 

“Equius,” he replied, and to your alarm, his hands were dripping more than yours. “I do apologize for not extending the proper _neigh_ borly greetings.” So not only was he freaky, he was some kind of prudish noble asshole. Definitely cobalt or indigo.

 

(

 

“That’s cooooooool. So…” You tried to think of a way to continue the conversation, but Equius had already returned to his pacing, and seemed intent on avoiding any further talk. You lay your head back into the slime and stared up at the spider-web laced ceiling.

 

\---

 

At 0800 the guard who dragged you in dragged you back out and you were corralled into a dingy bus full of lowbloods whose stink filled the wretched tin box. You took a seat next to one and pushed your fangs into your skin in an effort to restrain your violence. The pitiful thing next to you stared in horror as pinpricks of pure cerulean welled up on your lips and you stared straight ahead, trying to ignore her, but JEGUS it was hard, so hard to drown out the pressure her wide eyes placed on your mind, but you did it, claws digging into your thighs. The bus rumbled on lethargically, groaning and sputtering over each bump in the ancient, potholed road. The warden’s eyes flicked over his charges suspiciously; it was clear that he was just as exited as you to be here.

 

By whatever holy miracle, you managed to keep your temper under control through the ride, and the bus screeched to a halt in front of an imposing gray box of a building. You strode out onto the hot, dry ground, the early-night heat rising from the dust, blinking at the lingering sunlight. The sky above was blanketed in dull brown clouds of more dust, and dust was falling from it. The warden fingered his chargebaton tenderly and glared directions at the prisoners, who obediently formed an amorphous psuedoline behind him. He marched all of you towards the gray box and you all followed without a word, boots kicking up more dull brown clouds of more and more dust, dust showering your uniforms, powdering your hair, catching on your eyelashes.

 

You entered the box through a small metal door crouching unassumingly in a corner; some of the big-racked trolls had to bend down to get through without scraping their horns. Your eyes instantly widened at the soothing darkness inside, finally escaping the early-night rays of the outside. With a newfound clarity you saw rows upon rows of machines, a concrete floor and a high ceiling, smelled the sweat of nights upon nights of labor. Here and there on the floor were faint stains in a rainbow of colors.

 

The warden led you to the far side of the box, to a small gathering area clear of machines. In front of the space was another comically small door, and once you all had assembled, a comically small troll stepped out, announced by the screech of un-oiled hinges. She surveyed the crowd quietly, pacing precisely back and forth.

 

 

At long last, she stopped and turned towards you.

 

“So,” she spoke softly, grinning, “You’re my new friends. Fun, fun, fun.”

 

She paused, her grin fading.

 

“Let me give you a sense of what to expect here. You will arrive here every morning at _exactly_ 0850\. You will assemble here in a straight line, blood order, highbloods to the left. At 0850, announcements and roll call will begin, and if you aren’t here, _you are in trouble_. At 0860, you will proceed to your station, and begin work. You are here to do your empire good and to pay for your heinous crimes. Remember these words: serve and repent. They will be your guide for the rest of your pathetic lives.”

 

She pointed to the machinery behind you. “In this factory, you will be manufacturing uniforms for various military units. Be gracious. The empire has had the mercy to spare you the culling you so richly deserve and instead allowed you to contribute to its glorious plan. Justice is beautiful, justice is glorious, never forget.” She actually started to cry.

 

 

 You nearly lost your breakfast at that one. Some chick has a pants-buster for justice and now you’ve got to pay for it. Should be fun.

 

\---

 

When your day at the factory finally finished you returned, sweatier than your roommate, to the main complex and the warden from the bus lead you to the cafeteria. None of the food looked remotely edible, but you decided to place your bet on a thick, green meatpaste that didn’t smell _too_ bad; at worst, you would compare it to a pile of rotting shit, instead of a pile of rotting shit on top of a rotting corps. You helped yourself, and took your flimsy tray over to the emptiest table you could find. You were just about to dig in when you felt something cold and clammy on your shoulder and looked around, cringing, to find a hand resting there, followed by an arm in a too-big yellow jumpsuit and the fine, sleek face of a sea-dweller.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” you asked before realizing it was probably best not to get cheeky with royalty. Oh well. You were already in this thing. “And why the fuck are you touching me?”

“W-well, w-well,” he said in his ridiculous fish accent. “Fresh blood in my humble home. W-welcome.” He sits down next to you. “I’m hurt that you don’t know my name. I’m pretty fuckin’ famous around here, you know.”

 

“Yeah, well, it is my first day,” you replied. “And I don’t make a habit of talking to fin-faces.”  Because you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your stupid mouth shut.

 

 

“You ought to. W-we’re kind of a big fuckin’ deal around here. W-well, around pretty much eweryw-where. I’m Eridan, anyway. Eridan Ampora.”

 

“Vriska,” you responded, already regretting it. “It’s suuuuuuuuch a pleasure to meet you, now can you go the fuck away? I’m trying to eat this putrid shit.”

 

“No can do, Vriska. You see, I’m gettin’ awful lonely in here. There’s not really anyone to talk to, you know? And here you are, all by yourself. So you and me are gonna have a little chat,” he said with a dangerous grin, “and I have a feelin’ we may just end up bein’ best of friends.”

 

“Greeeeeeeeat.” You sigh. “So what is it you want to talk about?”

 

“Ok.” He takes a breath in. “So there’s this asshole who I used to know from outside, right? Ugly face, flabby, bad hair, bad teeth, the works. He fuckin’ know-ws I hate his guts, too, you gettin’ this? So there I am, wisitin’ my fuckin’ moiral, and who do I see but him, standin’ with her, lookin’ at me with this smug fuckin’ grin. And  they go to leave, and she’s feelin’ all pitifull for me, on account of how cruel it is that I’m stuck in here and she’s out there, and what does he do? He fuckin’ shooshes her! Right in front of me!” He lets the breath out.

 

“Wooooooooow, what a touching story. Why don’t you tell it again?”

 

“Ha. So I think to myself, what am I supposed to do? How do I get back at this guy? Then I remember, I’ve got this friend who knows a guy, and I…”

 

“Yeah, this is all fascinating, but I’m done with my paste, so I’m gonna go, real nice talking to you, ok, bye now.”

 

“But I didn’t even get to the good part!”

 

You give him the most condescending glare you can manage and through fishface’s arm off of your shoulder.

 

\---

 

That night, you sleep like a log.

 


	2. Aradia, Anger, and an Annoying Authority

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our hero encounters an old ally/enemy, develops a hatecrush, and generally causes problems for everyone.

You didn’t mean to start trouble, you swear. You’d only been in for a week, and you were finally starting to get the hang of the clunky sewing machines used in your lovely day job when the troll besides you, a frumpy looking rustblood chick with bags under her eyes, turns to you and just starts staring. This goes on for way longer than you can really believe before you finally say something.

 

“The hell is wrong with you?” you ask politely, not looking for a fight.

 

She doesn’t answer. You wrack your brain. Do you know this lady? She’s got lame curly horns that would serve absolutely no purpose in a strife, her jumpsuit is worn thin from years of serving, and her hair is a worse mess than yours, thick and curly. You’re amazed it hasn’t got pulled into the machine. _Think, Serket, think_ , you tell yourself, but nothing comes to mind. You only really knew one rustblood growing up and she… _oh shit._ It occurs to you that the universe is a sentient being and an asshole who’s clearly out to get you. There can be no other explanation for why Aradia fucking Megido is sitting next to you in prison.

 

“I said,” you growl, trying to keep your cool, “the hell. Is wrong. With you?”

 

She continues to stare. It’s as if there’s a coil inside her, winding tighter and tighter, and you just know she’s about to spring loose and go apeshit bananas on your ass. The silence crawls on until a loud whirring noise snaps your attention back to the machine in front of you, which has been running the whole time. Your uniform has been sewn into a ball and is slowly ripping as the threads pull in every direction.

 

“Shit!”

 

You turn the damn thing off and glance over at Megido who’s still fucking staring and you loose it. Jumping to your feet, you face her, hands balled tightly into fists. Slowly, she turns back to her work and continues to sew. You punch her in the face.

 

“That,” she says without looking away from her job, “was completely uncalled for.”

 

You launch yourself towards her, blind rage burning in your stomach, but something catches you in the stomach and stops you hard. You feel a body behind you, holding you in, thin arms circling you tightly.

 

“And what,” says Miss Justice, “do you think you’re doing?” She’s grinning again, displaying a row of perfect fangs.

 

 

You make the wise choice and for once in your life, you don’t talk back.

 

“Come with me,” she whispers, beckoning towards her office in the back. You shiver as you follow obediently, eying the buzz-stick at her side. The two of you enter the small, windowless room and the stick-limbed buzzard shuts the door behind you. It’s dark, the only light filtering in under the door, and smells like old books. Your eyes adjust to the gloom and you take in the clutter, ancient tomes and crisp manuals covering the floor, mug shots pinned to the walls, bright crawls of chalk connecting pictures and notes and little pieces of evidence. It almost makes you sad to see the useless effort the freak clearly puts into this stuff, as you realize she’s probably just as stuck here as you are. She sits down at the only chair and folds her hands ominously, sniffing deeply.

 

 

“Well now, what are we going to do about this?” she asks, one side of her mouth quirked into an ugly smirk.

 

You remain silent, blinking nervously.

 

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Miss…”

 

“Serket.”

 

“Right. Serket. Well, Miss Serket, I expect you to answer all my questions without hesitation.”

 

“I don’t know what you want,” you say, looking down, “I’m very sorry. I shouldn’t have stepped out of line. I’m a bad, bad troll.”

 

She laughs at this, a high-pitched giggle that grates at your nerves like nothing you’ve heard before. Much to your embarrassment, you feel a stir of disgust deep in your gut. You didn’t think you were that easy, but you can’t help but look at her with a stirring of black attraction.

 

“A bad, bad troll, indeed, Miss Serket. But the question is, how do we punish this bad, bad troll? I’ll have you know I’m authorized to do to you whatever I like; you by no means are required to survive your sentence here.” You begin to sweat. “But living inmates are so much more fun.” Now you’re sweating like Equius as the freak actually licks her lips.  “I’m curious, what brings you to my humble home here, anyways?”

 

“Killed some trolls,” you mumble.

 

“Speak up.”

 

“I killed some trolls,” you repeat.

 

“I see. And why did you kill those trolls?”

 

“I was having a bad day, alright? Why do you give a damn?”

 

“It’s my job to be familiar with those under my custody. You have quite the temper, Miss Serket, you might want to look into changing that if you hope to survive here.”

 

“Of course I have a fucking temper. My life is one big ball of shit.”

 

Her eyes narrowed under her shades. “Miss Serket, although I take interest in all my charges, I am not a thereputist, nor do I aim to be. I do not care how unhappy you are, and I certainly have no interest in making you feel better. Just because you’re having a bad week does not mean you are allowed to disrupt the work environment and attempt to harm a fellow inmate. From now on, you will perform double shifts every day, you will perform your shifts with an electrocollar, and you will report to me at the end of each shift for a progress report. You will also be assigned to a new station to avoid any further conflict. Are we clear?”

 

“Very clear. I must make you pretty damn sick if you want to see me every day,” you blurt out. There goes that mouth again.

 

Her thin eyebrows raise above her shades and she smiles slightly. “How very forward and very, very wrong of you. Please return to your station for now, and try to stay out of trouble for the rest of the day. I will ask you to remain professional in all further conversations.” So she says, but you can tell the animosity you’re feeling is more than a little bit mutual, and it excites you deeply. A chance to harass this psycho every day is more than worth a double shift.

 

“Whatever you say, warden,” you reply, but you can’t repress a slight smile as you turn to leave.

 

\---

 

When you make it back to your stupid machine, Megido is still there, a faint twinkle in her eyes as she glances at you. You take a deep breath and ignore her, and in no time at all, your two shifts are finished.

 

\---

 

When you finally make it to dinner, it’s too late for fin-face to annoy you directly, so instead, he he sent some chump to do it for you. Apparently the guy wasn’t kidding when he said he was a big deal, because the dude he sent is kind of scary.

 

“Look, you bulge-licking wriggler-fucking piece of shit, Ampora wants to see you,” he shouts, nubby horns bobbing up and down with his round head. “So help me, I will ram those redicoulous fucking horns so far up your fucking asshole the blood will come out your mouth.”

 

You raise your head slowly, shooting him your best glare.

 

 

“Tell Ampora if he wants to see me he can get off his pansy ass and come here instead of sending his pet bulge-sucker.”

 

“Don’t you talk about him that way!” He flushes and growls.

 

“Oooh, you mean someone actually wanted to quadrant with that desperate asshole?”

 

“It’s not… ok, fine, it’s like that, shut the fuck up. But the lazy fuck isn’t gonna leave his cell, so will you just come with me?”

 

“No, fuck off.”

 

“What do I have to fucking do, bitch? I’m not gonna leave, got it?”

 

You sigh and get up. Once you’re standing, you realize how ridiculously short this guy is, and how ridiculously full of blistering rage he is, too. You follow him out past the guard at the door, who ignores the two of you completely. When you reach Ampora’s cell, it’s open.

 

 

“W-well, I see you finally made it. Good job, Kar. I’ll make sure you’re _richly rew-warded._ ” You gag. You have no clue what either of them see in each other. “So, Wris, I’m thinkin’ w-we should hawe a nice chat, just you and me. You see, I heard through the w-wine-fruit wine that today you upset one Aradia Megido.” You nod cautiously. “Bad idea. You see, little Miss Megido happens to be a member of the _infamous_ Team Charge, a group that’s none too friendly with me and mine. And it just so happens that Megido’s moiral saw us chattin’ together just the other day. So now they’re gonna be assumin’ I hawe a problem with them. And that means trouble for both of us. So,” he leans in closer, lowering his voice, “so help me Wris, if Charge comes after me, I’m commin’ after you. Got it?” You nod. “Good talkin’ with you, and so help me, you’d better clean this up. Kar, lead her back to her cell.”

 

“Wait,” you say, “look, I’m sorry, alright. It’s just that I _know_ Megido, see? And it’s really weird that she’s here.”

 

“And why’s that?” he asks, mildly curious.

 

“Well, the thing is, I kind of thought I killed her when she was a kid. I used to FLARP back in the day, long story, and we were on the same team, her and me. She didn’t know, but I used to use it as a way to feed my lusus. After a while, she started to like me quite a bit, you see…” You pause, thinking back.

 

“Go on,” said Ampora.

 

“Well, I didn’t feel the same way about her, I guess, and she got really depressed. Then she got mad, and she figured out what I had been doing behind my back. Then, she decided to tell a close friend of mine all about it. I didn’t like that, and we got in a big fight, and I ended up pushing her off a cliff. I thought she was done for.”

 

 

“Quite an interestin’ story, there, Wris. But it doesn’t change the fact that you might a caused quite the fight, if I’m not wery careful.”

 

“What I want to know is how on Alternia such a good girl ended up here. I can’t imagine her ever killing someone.”

 

“W-we may newer know-w, but you still fuckin’ got me in trouble, got it? So I need you to fix this, ok? You gotta find Charge’s boss and fuckin’ grovel. W-whatever it takes to get me off clean.”

 

“Fine, whatever, I’m on it. Just let me get the fuck to bed, just for tonight, ok?”

 

“W-whatever you want, dearest Wris.”

 

Kar-whatever leads you quietly down the halls to your cell, where Equius is already sleeping. You’re tempted to wake him up and tell him about your day, but you doubt he’d appreciate it. The guy is a hard nut to crack, and you’ve certainly made no progress. Yesterday, you actually tried to have a conversation with him, which went something like this:

 

“So do you have any quadrantmates?”

 

“Neigh neigh I’m a pompous horsey asshole so I’m gonna act like you’re a fucking rustblood and tell you it’s none of your business then spend the rest of the day licking my own asshole.”

 

Needless to say, you’re not in the mood to try again. You lie down into your sopor, which still hasn’t been changed, and fall into a deep slumber.

 

\---

 

The next day, after your grueling double shift, you saunter in to the warden’s shady little office. You find her bent over a stack of papers, snickering at something, and a wave of nausea sweeps over you.  Her hair is loose this time, hanging down to in a tasteless bob. She’s dressed in her usual teal and red uniform, but she seems to have put it on carelessly, one side of her collar popping up foolishly. It’s as if she’s trying to piss you off.

 

“Vriska Serket, reporting in,” you say, and her head snaps up from whatever she was reading.

 

“Aah, Miss Serket, right on time,” she replies. “Tell me, how was your day?”

 

“Miserable, what do you expect?”

 

She laughs. “I expect just that, and I’m happy to hear it.” You get flap-bugs in your stomach. She wants you to suffer? “I trust you’re not getting in to anything that would make me upset?”

 

“No, warden. Nothing at all.” Well, besides possibly starting a gang war, that is.

 

“That’s good, very good. You see, we’ve developed a bond of trust here. Isn’t that nice? We can both be honest with each other.”

 

You nod. “I’m glad you trust me, warden, even after the horrible thing I did yesterday.”

 

“Yes, well, forgiveness is a holy virtue, is it not?” Oh no, is she some sort of cultist? Damn, this chick is crazy. On the other hand, if you can get evidence… that would be powerful blackmail, now, wouldn’t it?

 

“Sooooooooo, do you need me for anything else, dearest warden? Or have you had as much as you can handle?”

 

“I’ve just got one more question.” She stands, and despite the difference in your statures, you feel small. “ _Who do you think I am?_ Do you think you can just walk in here and talk to me that way?”

 

You don’t know what to say.

 

“Let me tell you something, Miss Serket, and I want you to listen very carefully.” You lean in, and speaks very quietly. “Are you listening to me? Good. Because I feel _nothing_ for you but very platonic contempt.”

 

 

You still don’t know what to say. So you punch her.

 

She lands on the floor, too surprised to hit back.

 

You walk out in a huff, knowing that what you did will cost you later, but too upset to care. You were _not_ flirting with her, how dare she assume! How dare she be so self-centered, think you hated her, how dare she talk to you like that! You’re her superior, for fuck’s sake! And she just walks in to your life and fucks you over and won’t fuck you… you mean… won’t listen… won’t… pay attention… to you… you weren’t flirting! You don’t, well, you do, but…

 

\---

 

“GRAAAUARUARGH,” you shout, and Ampora nods solemnly.

 

It’s dinnertime, but you can’t bring yourself to eat.

 

“I understand, Wris, I’we met her, she is pretty detestable. But you gotta know-w w-when to let one go, she’s newer gonna hate you. Ewen if she did, she’d newer show-w it, on account a her bein’ so attached to her fuckin’ professionalism.”

 

You fume silently.

 

“Sooo, on another subject, you dealt with our little problem yet.”

 

“I’m on it tonight,” you growl. “I’ll deal with the lowblood shits, and you can finally leave me the fuck alone.”

 

“Hey, shitstain, be fucking greatful he’ll even condescend to talk to you,” says the oaf you now know as Karkat Vantas.

 

“That’s right, Wris, you should learn from Kar and be a mite more respectful to me. But I suppose we all got our flaw-ws.”

 

“Whatever. I’m out of here. I’ve got some shitbloods to deal with.”

 

“Good day.”

 

“Good day.”

 

“Good fucking day.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I should be updating somewhat more quickly now.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to prisonstuck! This is my first real fanfic, so go easy! But not too easy! Augh, who knows, I'm new to this.
> 
> Also, this will be updating pretty slowly, just to warn anyone who actually reads it.
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the various shenanigans that occur here, stay tuned for more shenanigans and shipping galore!


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